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It’s the hand under his shirt that wakes him up.
As he blinks his eyes open, he can feel that there are also lips on the back of his neck, a thigh sliding between his legs. It’s dark in the hotel room, only the faintest lights from the street down below bleeding in through the curtains, the glow of the digital clock on the bedside table. The hand that woke him up is continuing its ascent, up past his stomach until long fingers brush over one nipple.
Jimin moans before he can stop himself, biting down on his bottom lip at the last second to muffle it. A huff of air on his nape, something that’s almost a laugh, those fingers more purposeful as they tease his nipple again.
“Shh, hyung,” Jungkook murmurs. “You don’t want to wake the others, do you?”
Jimin bites back a whine. He cranes his neck to see the clock and finds that it’s nearing three in the morning. Normally, the others in the room— Taehyung and Namjoon curled up in the other hotel bed— really would be asleep. But odds are Jungkook woke them up well before he went to work on waking up Jimin.
But pretending he could wake them up is part of the fun.
So Jimin shakes his head and presses back in Jungkook’s hold. A silent promise that he’ll be quiet, that he’ll be good.
“Good boy,” Jungkook says, and Jimin starts to sweat under his nightshirt.
He normally doesn’t wear much to bed— boxers at the most, his favorite chapstick at the least. But Jungkook said this was part of the game: getting his hands under Jimin’s clothes while he sleeps, tugging things out of the way to give himself access to the sweetest parts of Jimin.
He feels Jungkook doing just that, hand sliding down to the waistband of his sleep pants, pulling at the elastic to slip underneath and into Jimin’s underwear. Too-talented fingers wrap around his half-hard cock and Jimin breathes out hard through his nose.
“Too bad it’s so dark,” Jungkook murmurs. “Can’t even see this pretty cock in my hand.”
Jimin whimpers and squeezes his thighs together, feels Jungkook’s knuckles brush the top of his legs when he starts to stroke.
“Dying to fuck you,” Jungkook sighs. He says it like it’s a secret, like he didn’t finger Jimin open until he cried before they went to sleep, like Jimin can’t feel Jungkook’s dick, long and thick and so, so hard, right up against his back. “Can I?”
“Of course you—?”
Jungkook’s free hand appears over his mouth, effectively shutting him up, pulling him back even more flush against Jungkook’s chest.
“Quiet, baby,” Jungkook says and, oh, he almost sounds mean. Jimin isn’t even close to surprised by just how much that turns him on. “Just nod for me.”
Jimin does. He nods so hard he thinks his head might fall off.
Jungkook lets go of Jimin’s cock to yank at the back of his pants, pulling them and his boxers down in a move that’s so swift and seamless it’s like he’s practiced it before. Jimin wonders if he has. Even under the covers, Jimin feels it when his ass is exposed, lube still slick between his cheeks. Jungkook dips his fingers in between, slips two inside Jimin with such ease that Jimin feels dizzy.
“Messy hyung.” But Jungkook doesn’t sound disappointed. He starts to fuck his fingers in and out, curls them against Jimin’s prostate in a way that makes him wonder how the hell Jungkook expects him to keep quiet. “Dripping all over my hand.”
Jimin groans and turns to the side a little, spreads his legs more to give Jungkook better access to him. Jungkook presses back in with three fingers and kisses Jimin’s neck, teases his teeth along the sensitive skin. He knows logically they can’t leave any visible marks, but Jimin wishes Jungkook would bite him.
“Think you’re ready for me?” Jungkook asks. Jimin is nodding before the last word is even out of his mouth and Jungkook snorts. “Eager little slut.”
Jimin whines high in his throat but Jungkook doesn’t reprimand him this time. He just reaches between them to free his own cock from his boxers, pressing forward until it nudges between Jimin’s cheeks.
“Okay?” Jungkook asks, and his voice is smaller now. A little bit of his normal, sweet self peeking through the scene. Jimin turns his head to kiss Jungkook’s palm before he nods. He feels Jungkook’s smile against the juncture of his neck and shoulder and then he’s sinking inside.
This is when it’s hardest to maintain the illusion, to keep quiet: the first slow press of Jungkook’s cock inside him. He mewls and squirms in Jungkook’s hold, blushes when he thinks of how Taehyung will tease him for his desperation later. How much he’ll probably like the teasing.
As if cued, there’s a rustling in the other bed, a soft smacking sound like Taehyung and Namjoon are kissing. Or maybe jerking off. Jimin can’t tell over the sound of his own labored breathing, his own strangled moans.
Jungkook stops when he’s fully seated, breathing hard against Jimin’s ear. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good. Do you always feel this good?”
Jimin can tell it’s not meant to be dirty talk, but he nods anyway. Jungkook laughs and bites at Jimin’s shoulder in reply, fingers flexing on Jimin’s hip like he wants to spank him. Jimin wishes that he would. He wants to feel it, he wants to hear it, wants to turn around in the mirror and see Jungkook’s handprint on his ass in the morning. But he knows that’s not what tonight is about, and he doesn’t particularly mind once Jungkook starts to thrust.
Jungkook fucks him slow and deep, maddeningly deep. Jimin swears he can feel Jungkook’s cock in his throat. He rolls his hips back in time with Jungkook’s thrusts, in time with the creaking of the hotel bed and the quiet smack of the headboard against the wall. If there was ever any doubt of what they were doing, it’s gone now. If Jimin listens hard enough, he can hear Taehyung moaning, high and reedy, a few feet away. For a split second he wonders what Namjoon is doing to him to make him sound like that.
“Such a nosy little thing,” Jungkook murmurs. Of course he knows. Jimin swears sometimes Jungkook lives in his head. “Focus on me.”
“Jealous,” Jimin bites, quietly.
“Always,” Jungkook agrees, voice so low that Jimin whimpers. “You’re mine, and everyone should know it. Especially you.”
He fucks Jimin harder now, as if to emphasize his point. The slap of skin on skin is obscene, mixes in the air with Jimin’s high moans, punched out of him every time Jungkook nails his prostate. Jimin grips the sheets so hard he’s worried he might tear them. Jungkook’s hand appears on his throat. Not pressing down or squeezing, just a firm presence. It makes Jimin’s dick drool precome onto the sheets below them.
None of them are pretending anymore, and there’s really no reason to. Jimin can hear the creak of Taehyung and Namjoon’s bed, nearly right on the offbeat of Jimin and Jungkook’s. He almost laughs; leave it to Namjoon and Jungkook to fuck on beat with each other.
“Close?” Jungkook asks, reading Jimin’s body before he even has the chance to process that he is. Sometimes Jungkook knows his body’s tells so well it’s scary.
Jimin nods. “Please,” he cries softly. “Please, Jungkook-ah.” It’s too loud, too close to a normal volume for the time and place, for the original intent of the scene, but he doesn’t care.
“I’ve got you, baby,” Jungkook says.
His fingers are back around Jimin’s cock in the blink of an eye, precome slicking the way as he jerks Jimin off in tight, wet strokes. The hand around Jimin’s throat squeezes, just barely, and Jimin’s coming before he can even stutter out a warning. Jungkook keeps touching him through it, only stops when Jimin whines at the oversensitivity. It only takes a few more thrusts before he’s coming too, spilling deep into Jimin and fucking it even deeper as he rides out his orgasm.
They come down slowly in the dark. Jungkook’s arm wraps around Jimin’s stomach, holds him close as they try to catch their breath, as they listen to the sounds of Namjoon bringing Taehyung over the edge. As Namjoon follows and the telltale sound of them collapsing onto the mattress nearly sends Jimin into a fit of giggles.
“Don’t turn on the light,” Taehyung says, almost comically out of breath. “I’m pretty sure there’s come everywhere.”
“Don’t be dramatic,” Namjoon says, followed by a slightly wet smack that must be his hand on Taehyung’s ass. “Oh, ew.”
“Like I said,” Taehyung says and Jimin can practically hear him rolling his eyes.
“Brat,” Namjoon counters, sounding far too fond. “Let’s get cleaned up.” There’s more rustling— Jimin can just make out their outlines in the dark— and the sound of feet hitting the floor. “You mind if we go first?”
“Go for it,” Jimin answers. Jungkook grunts in agreement as he peppers kisses along Jimin’s neck and shoulder, still not pulling out despite going soft inside him.
Namjoon and Taehyung shuffle across the hotel floor, giggling to themselves and whispering things Jimin can barely make out. The bathroom light bathes the room in bright yellow light for a long moment before Namjoon tugs the door shut.
“Okay?” Jungkook asks, sounding just as sincere and serious as he always does when they’re done. He pulls out slowly, careful not to hurt Jimin. “Did you like it?”
Jimin sighs contentedly and nods. He rolls onto his other side to face Jungkook, reaches up to cup the younger’s cheek in his hand. “It was fun,” he says, leaning in to kiss Jungkook sweetly. “We should do it again. Maybe with Yoongi-hyung and Hobi-hyung next time.”
Neither of them says it, but Jimin wonders if they’re both imagining the disapproving look they’d get from Yoongi if they asked.
“Careful,” Jungkook says, bunny teeth on full display when he smiles. “Taehyungie-hyung will get jealous if he hears you say that.”
Jimin shrugs, fingers sliding into the hair at the back of Jungkook’s head. “I’ll find a way to make it up to him.”
“I’m sure you will,” Jungkook says with a smirk, leaning in to kiss Jimin again.